Arrival
The vestibule pane defogs as you exhale. A single brass key drifts in its frost-cradle, catalogued under the year it last opened a door.
Correspondence
A fountain-pen nib drawn from the 1923 Conway-Stewart line, still freighted with sentence-residue. Beside it, a folded telegram refusing to be unfolded.
Image
A daguerreotype, plated copper at the limit of its silver tooth. The lens that fixed her is mounted beside it: a 7-element Tessar with a hairline crack like a snowfield contour.
Botany
An iris pressed against linen paper, its violet now archival lavender. The herbarium label is in two scripts: one florist's copperplate, one botanical Latin.
Sound
A reel of 1968 acetate tape, its oxide bloomed to copper-sheen. The two voices on it are not allowed to be played; the spool turns once a year on conservation rotation only.
Departure
The final vitrine catalogues you. The fog from your breath, plotted across the pane, becomes the only specimen that ever leaves with the visitor.